


No Sound of the Loom and Shuttle

by Siria



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-21 16:00:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mulan and Aurora, figuring out what happens next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Sound of the Loom and Shuttle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trinityofone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinityofone/gifts).



> Thanks to Celli for betaing! A Chrismukkah gift for Trinityofone.

Cora took Aurora's heart twice: the first time to make a puppet of her, the second purely for sport.

Mulan had led them back east as quickly as she felt practicable, but at several points Aurora almost outstripped her thanks to her haste to get back to the palace, to Phillip. Purpose gave exasperating force to the imperiousness of someone who had been raised to rule, and when sunset came it took not only every ounce of diplomacy which Mulan possessed, but also the distant howling of wolves, to make Aurora concede to snatching a few hours' rest.

"You wouldn't let me stay in the red room even though it let me be a help," Aurora had said. The set of her jaw was defiant; the mottled, fading burn marks were still plainly visible along her arms. "If the Wraith's kiss causes half so much pain, I won't leave Phillip trapped a moment longer than I have to."

In the end, it wouldn't have made any difference had they run the whole way, or galloped there on the kingdom's swiftest horses. What they saw on the bier made it clear that there was no hope for Phillip; that there never had been, from the moment the Wraith had touched him. The moan that tore its way out of Aurora's chest at the sight of him was like the sound Mulan had only heard made before by wounded animals, when the hunter's arrow had not flown true.

Mulan could give mercy to an injured hind, but there was no way she knew of to cure a broken heart. She did the only thing she could, and hacked at the dead briars that surrounded them until she had amassed enough for a pyre. One last moment of duty: to stand and feel the heat of the flames on her face, to say farewell to the man who had been her best friend as much as he had been her liege lord, while behind her Aurora wept softly.

 

*****

 

By the time the flames died down, night was coming on—and night in this high, arid kingdom could be as cold as its days were hot. Aurora refused to countenance the thoughts of staying in one of the palace's many bedrooms, but neither could they sleep outside in comfort, so Mulan unearthed great heaps of blankets from one of the storerooms and hauled them into one of the great reception rooms. There was a fireplace there large enough to spit roast a whole ox, and by the time Mulan returned, Aurora was blotchy-faced and silent, but had set a small fire going in it.

Mulan piled up the bedding in front of the fireplace. It smelled a little musty, but it wasn't damp, and it would keep out the chill—she had slept in far worse. Food was a different matter; there was some waybread left, but after so long subsisting on little more than it and whatever berries they might gather in passing in the forest, it was hard to stomach.

"You should eat," Mulan said, taking off her cloak and unbuckling her sword before sitting down. "Then I'll take first watch. We can leave at daybreak."

"Why?" Aurora said, such an edge of anger to her voice that Mulan was taken aback.

"What do you mean, why?" she asked. "If we want to make it to the beginning of the lower pass by nightfall, then—"

"No," Aurora said. " _Why_? What is there to search for now? I'm a princess without a prince, or a kingdom, or even a people." She flung an arm out, gesturing at the palace around them. In the swiftly gathering dusk, it seemed more silent than ever. "What should I do? Why should you feel you must travel with me?"

Mulan looked down at her hands: the rough skin of her palms, the silvery scars that were the product of years of training and battle. She knew how hard she had worked to shape herself; how long she and Phillip had spent fighting side by side. Mulan's difficulty was not in making a choice, for there was no real choice to be made; it was in knowing what words to put to it.

"Because I have to," she said simply.

 

*****

 

Since the time she had first learned to heft a sword, Mulan had been taught the importance of loyalty. After the war, she had sworn allegiance to Phillip, grateful for the place he had made for her in his retinue when her home was barred to her in the rebellion's aftermath, and no other company of knights on this side of the ocean would countenance the thought of a female soldier. It was for the sake of his trust in her that she'd faced down dragons; for his memory that she had promised to ensure Aurora's safety. Mulan didn't regret her decision, or the new scars she had gained in Phillip's service.

Yet it was difficult not to feel like she'd been paying lip service all along, when it was becoming steadily more difficult to deny that more and more, Mulan was motivated not by Phillip's memory, but by the woman who walked beside her. Aurora was spoiled and unused to tactical thinking, but she could be fierce and brave and stubborn. She had fought Snow White, and volunteered to return to the burning room, and when she had ordered them to leave her behind, tied-up, in the cave, Mulan had barely been able to restrain the urge to kiss her—to promise things she shouldn't, not if she was to maintain any claim to her honour.

She had to stay with Aurora now; she just couldn't say why.

 

*****

 

They ate in silence, and then Aurora lay down and wrapped herself in the blankets. Mulan sat on the other end of the little mound of bedding. She meant to dig out her whetstone and sharpen the blade of her sword, but instead, distracted, she found herself watching the flames that leapt in the grate. She had thought that Aurora had fallen asleep, which meant that when Aurora spoke, Mulan jumped a little, startled.

"What do you think Snow and Emma are doing right now?" Aurora's voice was muffled by the blankets, but Mulan was suddenly, achingly aware of her in a way that she hadn't been only moments before.

She cleared her throat. "They're home, probably."

"Yes, but…" Aurora wriggled around under the blankets until Mulan could see her face. "You heard their stories—about how different it is there. No magic, no kingdoms or corsets, and before I met them, the only other woman I'd ever known who wore breeches was… well, you."

Mulan felt her cheeks heat under Aurora's curious gaze; she told herself that it was from the fire's heat. "Practicality," she said, trying to focus her attention back to the blade in her lap. It had been a long time since she had worn skirts. There was silence again, for long enough that Mulan was sure that this time, Aurora had finally dozed off—but when she looked back up, Aurora was still watching her. There was a curiosity in Aurora's gaze that Mulan hadn't seen directed towards her before.

"How long have you been away from home?" she asked softly.

Mulan blinked, and looked away at the fire for a moment, considering how to answer. By the time she gathered her thoughts and looked back at Aurora, Aurora was asleep, her faced pressed into the blankets.

 

*****

 

They walked south, forsaking the woods and the mountain passes in favour of the broad grasslands that Mulan knew must sooner or later lead them towards the great, sluggish Red River. Following its banks would lead them to some of the great trading towns, and surely not all of them could have been depopulated by the curse. She didn't know what they would find there, but surely they would find something to do in the bustle of a big town. Mulan could always hire herself out as a mercenary, and if none of Aurora's noble kinsfolk could be found, her even, fluid handwriting would earn her a living as a scribe.

Such aimlessness should have made Mulan feel skittish, but she was distracted by the myriad questions with which Aurora pestered her, making her speak more than she had in a long time: how many siblings she had, and what the climate was like in the Nine Kingdoms; if all women there wore their hair as Mulan did and what they ate for breakfast and when Mulan had begun to learn how to fight. So much unaccustomed speaking left Mulan a little hoarse, but the sensation of speaking so much about everyday things—some things which she had half-forgotten and had to concentrate to remember—was not unpleasant. She didn't think she had been the object of such focused interest from another person in quite some time.

Some days' walk from the palace, they came across a farm. It must have been part of the kingdoms frozen by the curse. No one appeared when they called, and yet it seemed as if its inhabitants had stepped away just a moment or two before. Farm tools lay on the cobblestones in the yard; next to a low stool by the kitchen door, a ball of wool had rolled away from a half-finished scarf. Inside the house they found apples and some hard cheeses that would keep their bellies full for another few days yet. Better yet, in one of the large paddocks out back, they discovered two horses. Neither of them were chargers fit for battle, but judging by the tack that Mulan found in one of the barns, both of them were broken.

"Riding will take several days off our travel time," Mulan said, checking the girths on the saddles. She nodded to herself in satisfaction, and looked up to see with surprise that Aurora was eyeing the horses with grim determination, as if steeling herself for an unpleasant task. Mulan frowned. "You don't like to ride?"

"Oh, no, it's not that," Aurora said. "Father even bought me a palomino mare for one of my birthdays. It's just that I've never ridden astride."

Mulan blinked. She'd forgotten that in some places, it was considered unseemly for a woman not to ride sidesaddle—but while this farm seemed prosperous enough, she doubted its owners had ever even aspired to purchase one of those saddles. There had to be some way around it, she thought—perhaps she could jury rig something until they reached a town—but Aurora was standing beside the smaller horse and looking at her expectantly.

"Well?" she asked. "Aren't you going to help me up?"

Mulan cocked an eyebrow at her. "You're going to ride astride? Just like that?"

"My life seems determined to be unconventional," Aurora said, chin lifting in determination. "So why shouldn't I decide to be unconventional along with it?"

For the first time in longer than she could remember, Mulan truly felt like smiling, and she pretended to fuss with the stirrups, forcing a frown onto her face, in order to hide her confusion.

 

*****

 

Mulan's father named her for the magnolias that were in full-bloom when she was born: great cup-shaped flowers of waxy-white petals that seemed to fill the whole village with their scent. She was raised to be a good child, to do her duty, and never to think much beyond the long, narrow valley where her family had lived for as long as the genealogical rolls recorded.

Yet taking up her father's sword and stepping out into the wide world had seemed the right thing to do, even though it had also meant stepping out of her proper place: abandoning the loom and shuttle of a hard-working daughter; forsaking the respectable match that her mother had so painstakingly arranged. Mulan knew that she had saved lives by doing so—but for each good thing that had come from her decision, it seemed, there had also been a loss. It had been twelve long years since she'd seen those flowers bloom.

 

*****

 

For the first hour or so of their journey, Aurora sat astride her horse with an expression on her face like that of a foal standing for the first time: tentative, wary, afraid that any moment her balance would fail her and she would tumble over. But the longer they went without mishap, the more confidence she seemed to gain, and when they first caught sight of the Red River, Aurora yelled, "Race you!" and spurred her horse on before Mulan could react.

Neither of the horses was built for speed, and so it was less a full-out gallop to the river and more of a gentle canter, but Aurora was breathless and laughing by the time they reached its banks. She looked out across it with wide eyes: the steep, rocky banks which led down to the slow-flowing waters; the great flocks of birds which had always been one of Mulan's favourite things about the Red River, a chattering, multi-coloured mass which flung themselves up into the air on hearing their approach. In another couple of months, perhaps, the river would once more be busy with flat-bottomed barges hauling great sacks of millet and rye in one direction, thick bales of freshly sheared wool in another, but for now it was just the two of them, side by side under the open sky.

"This is the furthest away from home I've ever been," Aurora said after a long moment. "Even my father's maps stopped at the Red River. He had no interest in whatever lies beyond it." She looked over at Mulan, her eyes bright, cheeks flushed. "Should we turn east or west?"

Mulan looked at her for a long moment, considering, more hesitant than she'd felt in a long time. East would lead them towards some of the smaller towns over which Aurora's father had once ruled; if they had any hope of finding some of Aurora's kin quickly, it lay in that direction. Yet Aurora had declared a desire to be less conventional, and perhaps Mulan could give her that much.

"If we head west," Mulan said, pointing towards the horizon, "we should reach Hytheport in a day or two. Lots of merchant ships sail from there to the Nine Kingdoms."

"Where you're from?" Aurora asked.

Mulan nodded.

Aurora smiled.

 

*****

 

They spent almost two weeks in the town, waiting for a change in the winds. Mulan traded the horses for the cost of their passage, and Aurora offered up the stones in her headdress in order to buy supplies.

"I don't need finery," she said firmly, holding it out to Mulan, "but I will need better walking boots and something to eat. I _can_ be sensible, you know."

"So it seems," Mulan said, quirking an eyebrow at her, and then went to bargain with the silversmith down the street to get them the best price possible.

The ship finally set out not long after dawn one morning. A ponderous, slow-moving merchant ship, it was full of livestock and migrating families, people travelling for the first time in years now that time was finally moving as it should. Mulan stood on the deck, gloved hands braced against the railing as she looked back at the land she had tried to make her home for so many years. The first rays of sunlight gilded Hytheport's houses—all of them painted in bright reds and blues, greens and oranges and yellows, as protection against the salt air, and capped with solid slate roofs. It was too early to tell, she thought, if she would miss it.

Aurora stood next to her, wrapped in a warm cloak of blue wool, her hair pulled back in a sensible braid. Underneath it, Mulan knew, Aurora was wearing a newly purchased pair of breeches. They stood in silence until the ship finally passed out of the harbour and onto the open sea. Most of the other passengers went below then, for breakfast and to escape the brisk salt wind, but Aurora stayed. After a moment she said, "I woke up because Phillip's kiss was one of true love."

"Yes," Mulan said, staring at the horizon hard enough to make her eyes water.

"But…" Aurora began. She took a deep breath. "But Phillip and I had known one another since we were both in leading strings. Our betrothal was a political one. We loved one another, but it was not… There are many different kinds of love, and I don't think one of them has to be less true than another."

Mulan looked over at her. The expression on Aurora's face was wavering between determined and terrified. "What do you mean?"

"My life is turning out to be unconventional," Aurora said, reaching out to take one of Mulan's hands in hers. Despite the layers of cloth and leather between them, Mulan could have sworn that she felt the heat of Aurora's skin. "And I'm starting to think... I think that that might be a good thing."

Mulan's mouth felt dry. "I promised Phillip that I would—"

Aurora went up on her tiptoes and pressed her warm, soft lips to Mulan's. Mulan did not think that either of them was particularly experienced in such matters, and the strengthening breeze that tangled Mulan's cloak around her ankles chilled them enough to make their movements as much clumsy as heartfelt. Mulan found that she did not care overly much; her breath hiccupped in her chest.

When the kiss finally ended, Aurora stayed close and said, "You told me once, just after we met, that love is sacrifice. Maybe it is—but that doesn't mean you always have to be the one giving up something. Maybe sometimes someone else can take a risk for your sake."

For a long moment, Mulan wavered—but then she realised that she hadn't let go of Aurora's hand, that she couldn't quite countenance the thought of doing so. "Unconventional," she said cautiously, and was rewarded with a blinding smile from Aurora.

"Exactly," Aurora said, and the ship was carrying them on, south and west towards all their next adventures.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] No Sound of the Loom and Shuttle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/730459) by [exmanhater](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exmanhater/pseuds/exmanhater)




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